She went inside.
He remained on the porch until darkness fell.
That night, Aaron slept in his childhood room at Denise's house.
Not his own house.
He could not enter that bedroom again.
Not yet.
Denise brought him tea.
He laughed when he saw it.
"I'm thirty-eight."
"Congratulations."
"I'm not six."
"Then drink your tea without complaining."
He took it.
Denise sat.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then Aaron said, "You should've told me somehow."
Denise stared.
"How?"
He said nothing.
She continued.
"Should I have sent a letter to wherever you were being held?"
Aaron looked down.
"I'm not being rational."
"No."
His mother touched his hand.
"But you get to be irrational for a while."
Aaron looked at her.
"Did you approve?"
"Of Noah?"
"The pregnancy."
Denise sighed.
"At first? Absolutely not."
"Why?"
"I thought grief was making Hannah make a permanent decision."
"And then?"
"I realized she'd been thinking about those embryos for months."
Aaron listened.
Denise smiled faintly.
"And I realized I was angry because she had a piece of you I didn't."
That surprised him.
"What?"
"Your child."
Denise looked toward an old family photograph.
"You were gone."
Her voice weakened.
"I thought I'd never see your face again."
She wiped tears away.
"Then Hannah said if the transfer worked, there'd be somebody carrying half of you."
Aaron looked down.
"I hated myself for understanding."
They sat quietly.
"Did you go to the birth?"
Denise laughed softly.
"She nearly broke my hand."
Aaron smiled despite everything.
"Boy?"
"Seven pounds, four ounces."
"You remember?"
"I remember everything."
That hurt.
His mother had memories he didn't.
"Hannah had complications."
Aaron looked up sharply.
"What kind?"
"Bleeding after delivery."
"Bad?"
"Bad enough that I was scared."
Aaron leaned forward.
"Why didn't she tell me?"
Denise gave him a tired look.
"Still struggling with the timeline?"
He exhaled.
"Right."
She touched his shoulder.
"She almost died having your son."
Aaron stared at the tea.
That night, he dreamed he was back in captivity.
Concrete walls.
Heat.
The smell of sweat and metal.
A guard shouting.
Aaron woke with his hands around the lamp.
He almost threw it.
Then he remembered where he was.
America.
His mother's house.
Free.
He sat on the floor until morning.
At seven, his phone vibrated.
A message from Hannah.
Noah woke up three times last night. I think he knew something was different.
Aaron stared at the text.
He had no idea how she had his current number.
Probably Denise.